


While the Penguin's Away

by irisbleufic



Series: Delicate, Dangerous, Obsessed [19]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Accidental Plot, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, F/M, Families of Choice, Family Secrets, Female Character of Color, Female Friendship, Female-Centric, House Party, Intersex Character, Intrigue, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Female Character of Color, M/M, Multi, POV Selina Kyle, Plot Twists, Team as Family, Teenagers, Weird Biology, Weird Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 20:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12043797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “Does that mean what I think it means?” Ivy wondered aloud, swilling her coffee.  “Am I dreaming?”“Nope, you sure aren't,” said Selina, contemplatively, tapping the rest of the mail with Edward's postcard.  “I think Green Dad just gave us permission to throw a house party.”“Yeah,” Bridgit replied, noisily slurping from her mug, “but if Goth Dad finds out, he'll blow a gasket.”[This takes place duringLearning Our Names, only back in Gotham; consider it an intermission at the current midpoint break.]





	While the Penguin's Away

Grabbing the mail mid-morning every day while Oswald and Edward were gone had fallen to Selina by default, because she slept little and tended to rise early. She liked the walk down the driveway.

Yawning, tugging the heavy front door shut behind her, she came back inside with that day's haul clutched to her chest. It looked like a bunch of boring shit—bills Olga tended to pay, stuff from miscellaneous underling scum whose handwriting she could recognize—except for [the postcard](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11624541/chapters/26536602).

“Oh my _gosh_ ,” Ivy blurted, wrapped in one of Oswald's dressing gowns. “Ed sent us mail!”

“That, I wanna see,” said Bridgit, pushing her seat back from the dining table, coffee mug in hand. “Wow, what the shit,” she went on, peering over Selina's right shoulder while Ivy peered over her left. “His handwriting's worse than you said. Like, not completely illegible, but hella weird?”

“To the residents of Maison d'Ivy in exile,” Selina read off, having had more experience in deciphering-and-forgery matters than her companions. “Two is company; four is a crowd. Three's a party. Don't be too loud.” She frowned at the parenthetical postscript, undertain if her game was off. “Hope you're not finding the place too inhospitable,” she read on. “It's not as if you hesitate to put your feet up any— _hey_ , I resemble that remark—anyway. What Oswald doesn't know can't hurt him. Burn this.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Ivy wondered aloud, swilling her coffee. “Am I dreaming?”

“Nope, you sure aren't,” said Selina, contemplatively, tapping the rest of the mail with Edward's postcard. “I think Green Dad just gave us permission to throw a house party.”

“Yeah,” Bridgit replied, noisily slurping from her mug, “but if Goth Dad finds out, he'll blow a gasket.”

“That's why Ed asked us to _burn_ it,” said Ivy, elbowing Bridgit harder than necessary. “Duh.”

Without further comment, Bridgit snatched the postcard out of Selina's hand, set down her mug, and retrieved her kit from where it was propped against the liquor cabinet. She marched out of the room, down the entryway, and slammed the front door behind her.

“I've gotta give you credit,” said Selina, following Ivy back over to the table. “You produce results.”

Smirking, Ivy claimed Oswald's chair for herself. She preened as she pulled her legs up onto the seat.

“Pengy isn't grooming me to take the reins for nothing,” she said. “He knows I've got what it takes.”

“Dream on,” said Bridgit, stalking back into the room before Selina could hurl a comeback. “If anybody ever takes out Penguin and Riddler, you _know_ Fish is gonna steal the show.”

“Fine,” said Ivy, straightening her shoulders, letting her feet fall back to the floor. “Then he's grooming _us_ to step in as her lieutenants. Not too shabby for a buncha street rats, huh?”

“While you nerds eat breakfast, I'm gonna get started on the guest list,” Selina said. “There's Bruce.”

“You do realize we have _zero_ friends, right?” Bridgit retorted. “Aside from your mopey ex.”

“Mr. Fries is gonna move back to Gotham,” Ivy volunteered happily. “He said so in his last letter.”

“I don't think your pen-pal can do that till he gets the package Pengs had us send,” Bridgit sighed. “It's not like he can just leave the great, frozen Klondike or whatever without his suit.”

“Fine!” said Selina, thumping the table. “We invite Bruce and raid the booze. Why's this so hard?”

“Because the only other person who'd be chill is Olga, and she's running around Indian Country with her niece,” Bridgit muttered. “Never mind that Oswald can't know about this. _Fish_ can't.”

“Don't be a spoilsport,” Ivy said, reaching to flick Bridgit's nose. “She won't. And that's _awesome_ about Sveta, like—her mom was Zuni? I told Olga I want something with turquoise and—”

“Not cool,” Bridgit said, swatting Ivy's hand. “Because _all_ Natives can make that stuff, right?”

“Jeez, would you two shut up,” Selina griped, leaving them alone to bicker. “I'm gonna go shower.”

She didn't blame Ivy for stealing pieces of Oswald's and Edward's clothing on a regular basis, not in the _least_. The master bathroom, a recent renovation, was as tricked-out as they came. She liked the heated tile and being able to stretch out on the bench in the shower, although she had to try pretty hard _not_ to think about what their bosses undoubtedly did in there on the regular.

Although she had no use for any of Oswald's immaculately-pressed nightclothes once she was finished, she _did_ try out some of his cosmetics. Even throughout years as an expert thief, hundred-dollar eyeliner was hard to come by. Ivy had left her lipstick there, so Selina used it.

Selina dialed Bruce's number on her cell phone, exiting the master bedroom just as Ivy wandered in.

 _Hey!_ Ivy mouthed, pointing at Selina's lips, so Selina fled swiftly down the hall and the stairs.

“Selina,” Bruce said, picking up after one ring. “Nice to hear from you. How is Ivy's house coming?”

“The tiolet finally works, but who cares about that when you're house-sitting for Penguin?” she asked.

“I'd heard that Cobblepot and Nygma were out of town,” Bruce said after a beat. “That's interesting.”

“Sure as hell is,” said Selina, sliding down the banister. “Especially since we can have people over.”

“I somehow doubt that was part of the implied contract,” said Bruce, ruefully. “Is...that an invitation?”

“Man, are you slow to catch on,” said Selina, sticking her free hand in her back pocket. “Yeah. It is.”

Bruce was silent again on the end of the line. “Do you want me to bring anything? Alfred could—”

“No bringing Brit Dad or Cop Dad,” Selina warned. “Bring whatever food you want, but no adults.”

“Lucius isn't an officer, but I take your point,” Bruce agreed. “I'll have to wait till late to sneak out.”

“That's cool, because I'm gonna sleep a whole lot till this evening,” said Selina. “Come around nine.”

“I'll see you then,” Bruce agreed. “Any preference regarding what I bring? Alfred can make this—”

Selina hung up on him, made her way to the sitting room, and crashed on the sofa. She stared at the ornately-molded ceiling for a while, and then studied the portrait of Oswald and Edward upside-down.

“Dude, boys are exhausting,” she told Oswald's likeness. “I think I'm gonna leave that crap to you.”

She drifted in and out of light slumber, marginally aware of a dozen disruptions. Ivy and Bridgit, arguing about what Ivy should or _shouldn't_ be wearing. Just Bridgit, sniping in response to Ivy's jabs at her choice of impromptu hors d'oeuvres for that evening.

And then nothing but blessed silence for the longest time, followed by the doorbell's jarring clamor.

“I'll get it,” Selina mumbled, rolling off the sofa, dashing to intercept Bruce before Ivy could do so.

“Something smells delicious,” Bruce said as she let him in. “I'm afraid Bridgit puts Alfred to shame,” he continued, proffering a tinfoil-covered casserole dish. “This is vegetarian quiche.”

“Ivy'll thank him for it,” Selina said, taking the dish off Bruce's hands, bowing. “Right this way.”

“Even the housekeeper is out of town?” Bruce asked, hanging his coat next to the door. “Olga?”

“Butler,” Selina corrected him, handing the quiche off to Ivy, who had dashed in to investigate.

“Hello again,” Bruce said, sticking his hands in his pockets as he nodded to Ivy. “And...thank you,” he went on, mildly embarrassed while Selina watched in amusement. “For [assisting in my rescue](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10605213/chapters/25236963).”

“Hey, it was nothing,” Ivy reassured him, sniffing the quiche. “Mmm- _mmm_. Golden beets?”

“I confess I don't really ask what Alfred puts in,” Bruce explained, following Selina and Ivy down the hall. “He knows what I don't eat, and he steers clear of those things. Anything else is fair game.”

“Brits know what to do with root vegetables,” Bridgit said, carrying in a tray of tiny puff-pastry marvels with bacon, feta, basil, and God knew what-all herbs. “What, uh, don't you eat?”

“It doesn't matter,” said Bruce, offering her a genuine smile. “I won't tell Alfred if you won't.”

“You must keep kosher,” said Ivy, setting the quiche down on the dining table so she could snatch one of the pastries and shove it in her mouth. “I mean, uh...” She chewed in obvious enjoyment. “Even _I'll_ make the exception for bacon once in a blue moon. But not Vee.”

“She's the one with her hair always dyed some shade of blue, isn't she?” Bruce asked, taking a pastry.

“Y'all know how to make a cook feel wanted,” Bridgit sighed, taking her turn in Oswald's grand chair.

“So is this, like, the part where we play spin-the-bottle?” Ivy asked. “I've always wanted to do that.”

“Ew, no,” protested Bridgit. “Not with _him_ here. No offense, Bruce, but I don't swing—”

“None taken,” said Bruce, too quickly. “Charades was one of my favorites when I was younger.”

Selina shoved one of Bridgit's pastries into her mouth and smacked her forehead, groaning loudly.

“I can't believe I'm stuck in one of Gotham's dopest mansions with _you_ losers,” she mumbled.

“Hey, we could play strip poker as long as there's no funny business,” Ivy said wickedly. “For cash.”

“I know you don't give a shit who sees you half-dressed, but seriously, _no_ ,” Bridgit seethed.

“Might I trouble one of you to point out the nearest bathroom?” Bruce ventured rather awkwardly.

“That door to the left, right when you come in,” said Ivy, indicating the entryway with a curt wave.

“What the hell's wrong with you?” Selina asked once Bruce was gone, setting her palms against Bridgit's shoulders, giving her a light shove. “Is it your time of the month or something?”

“Couldn't tell ya,” Bridgit sneered, shoving her back. “I used to bleed. After Indian Hill? I didn't.”

Ivy, her expression disturbingly tense, held Selina back one-handed and took a step closer to Bridgit.

“When Strange's guy—well, _Fish's_ guy—touched me,” she said, sounding younger and more vulnerable than Selina had heard her in a while, “I thought maybe I'd finally start...you know...”

“Wait, you never got your period?” Selina blurted. “Mine showed up when I was like, I dunno, eleven?”

“Yeah, and so did like every _other_ kid with a uterus that I knew,” Ivy sighed, shifting her focus back to Bridgit. “You were one of 'em. I remember. Well, I never did, and even... _changing_ didn't bring it. Hasn't so far, anyway.” She chewed her lip. “Not that I was, like, married to the idea of being a mom or anything, the plants and you two are enough of a handful, but—”

“Thanks,” Bridgit cut in, folding her arms across her chest. “Make me feel like even more of a freak.”

“I'm trying to guess something here, okay?” said Ivy, defensively. “I'm trying to figure out whether what's happening to us is random, or whether it's related. But you having had it and _lost_ it kind of throws a spanner in that hypothesis, know what I mean?”

“I think there's something else wrong with you,” Bridgit countered. “Something that would've—or _wouldn't_ have, as the case may be—happened whether you got hit with some of Strange's mojo or not.” She exposed her midsection, showing off the nightmarish combination of scarred flesh and what fused fireproof fabric Strange's team hadn't been able to extract. “See this part of the scar tissue, heavier than the rest, less random?” she went on. “Doc Kali thinks they opened me up. A couple of the other women at Indian Hill had this. She thinks they were sterilizing us along with everything else. I said I didn't really wanna know. Not yet, anyway. So Kali let it drop.”

Ivy ran her fingertips along the scar, her eyes narrowing. “If I ever _see_ that motherfucking...”

Selina forgot the argument she'd been attempting to start, forgot about it entirely. She stepped away from the two of them, falling back against the sofa just like she'd seen Oswald do so many times.

“Pardon my French, but that's fucked up,” she said, kicking the coffee table. “Maybe Kali should have a look at you, Ives. Maybe she can figure it out. If you want.”

Ivy shrugged, smiling sadly. “What's the difference? There's my leaf-babies and you knuckleheads. Anyway, Ed's got science books in the lab, and you can pick locks. Maybe we can figure it out.”

Selina realized precisely how empty the sitting room had remained since they'd begun to squabble.

“Uh, guys,” she said. “Hate to say it, but guess who isn't here. And who can _also_ pick locks.”

“Yeah, dumb-ass!” Bridgit shouted, hands on her hips. “Because _you_ freakin' taught him how!”

“Pengs is gonna _kill_ us if he ends up where he shouldn't,” Ivy said, leaping to her feet. “I'm gonna check upstairs. I know where the cool shit is up there, because I've nosed around myself.”

The sound of stiletto footsteps in the entryway stopped them all in their tracks; Selina swore under her breath. She really was going to have to work on [the whole remembering-to-lock-the-door thing](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11493381).

“Well well _well_ ,” said Barbara, her grin all Cheshire-cat delight as she sauntered in with Tabitha on her heels. “No _way_ could the rumors could be true, I thought, but oopsie. I thought wrong.”

“Just when you think Ozzie's learned his lesson,” Tabitha said, primly removing her black gloves, “you find out he's more foolish than you thought. You three? _Kids_? His house-sitters of choice?”

“I think you're failing to take into account that he's got Fish and Zsasz where you can't see them,” Ivy pointed out defensively, “but listen. I'm good at getting people to squeal, Cat's good at stealing their crap, and Bridgit's good at frying them to death. D'you really think we're an unsafe bet?”

“Given one of the Wayne brat's cars is out front, _and_ he's nowhere in sight,” retorted Barbara, “yeah. I really kind of do.” She fixed hard eyes on Ivy. “Pengy's gonna _lose_ it when he gets home and finds out you let Brucie break into his hubby's mad-science man cave.”

“Well, shit,” Ivy said, rounding the sofa, pushing right between Barbara and Tabitha on her way out.

“Oh, I'm not going to miss _this_ ,” said Tabitha, with cruel pleasure, following with quick strides.

Barbara gave an excited clap, squealing at Selina and Bridgit, before energetically doing just the same.

“This was never gonna end well,” Selina sighed, grabbing Bridgit's hand, dragging her after the rest of them. “Not in a million years. We shoulda invited, like, half of Casa del Zsasz instead.”

“Yeah, but the card games would've gone on for days,” Bridgit protested, trying her best to keep up.

They found Ivy, Barbara, and Tabitha—unnervingly silent and still—crowded in the open doorway to Edward's lab. Letting go of Bridgit's hand, Selina forced her way past the astonished trio.

Bruce was seated at Edward's desk with what looked like a ratty album of some kind open in front of him. The pages he had open were covered in yellow newspaper clippings and faded, chaotic green ink.

Occupying the center of one page was what looked like a letter that had been produced on a typewriter.

Selina knew what Bruce looked like in tears. Minus the actual waterworks, this was pretty damn close.

“C'mon,” Selina sighed, hefting the book off the desk. “Where'd you get this thing? Let's put it back and get you outta here. The last thing I need is Riddle-man finding out you went through his files.”

“He lost his parents,” said Bruce, quietly, hands in his lap. “I didn't—I never knew. He didn't say—”

“I know that you two, like, [bonded or whatever while you were in those cages](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10605213/chapters/25177983),” Ivy said, coming up behind Edward's chair, taking Bruce by the shoulders, “but you've gotta realize he's got, uh...layers.”

“Please _God_ nobody turn this into a _Shrek_ reference,” Bridgit muttered under her breath.

“Poor babies,” said Barbara, twirling a lock of her hair. “Boo _hoo_. Are we gonna party or what?”

“I should go,” Bruce said, twisting out of Ivy's grasp, making a bee-line for the door. “My apologies.”

“You're getting better about that,” Selina said, keeping the album clutched to her chest, dashing after him. “But seriously, why don't you stay? I totally know where Penguin keeps his booze.”

“It's kind of you to have invited me, but I shouldn't have come here,” Bruce said, already halfway out the front door. “It was a mistake. I lied to you about why I came, and I...didn't find what I hoped.”

“Listen, Ed's gotten better about not letting stuff lie around,” Selina said. “Where'd you get this book?”

“Look under the desk,” said Bruce, slowly. “There's a loose section of floorboard. I was able to lift it.”

“Okay, so I just...get everybody out of the room, put the book in the floor, and put the board back?”

“Yes,” said Bruce, stepping fully out into the cold. “I suggest that you use the booze as a diversion.”

“Thank goodness you're not totally useless,” Selina sighed, hanging in the door-frame. “G'night.”

Thankfully, Bruce was right. All she had to do was tell the rest of the crew to help themselves to Oswald's liquor cabinet, and they went running. Alone in the lab, she made her way to the desk.

“You blow at security measures, Green Dad,” she muttered into the dusty space beneath the floorboards as she knelt and lowered the album into it. “You blow the big one.”

“ _That_ double entendre, I'm too angry to unravel,” said a familiar, ominous voice from the threshold.

Selina fumbled the floorboard back into place, dusting her hands off on her jacket. “Hiya, Fish.”

“I'd be fascinated to know if you got a postcard like I did,” she said, stepping into the room. “Very.”

“We, uh,” said Selina, swallowing as Fish backed her up against the work-top behind the desk. “Lost it.”

“Ashes, ashes,” Fish lamented, stroking Selina's cheek with the backs of her fingernails. “We all fall down. Do you understand what Oswald tasked you with, kitten? And why you failed?”

Nervously, Selina nodded. “I brought a stranger into his house. And I left the door open. _Again_.”

“Sweet girl, why don't you run along and play with your friends,” Fish said, breaking into a deceptively reassuring smile, “while I hole up in here.”

“Uh, sure,” Selina said, fleeing Fish's orbit as quickly as she could manage. “You have fun with that.”

“Oh, and darling?” Fish said, seating herself at the desk as Selina began to close the door behind her.

“Yeah?” Selina asked, frowning. She suddenly understood what Little Red Riding Hood was about.

“Keep the Sirens out of my hair at all costs,” instructed Fish, icily stern. “It's going to be a long night.”


End file.
